#Chat: Solveig

[solrites]

more on this actually. solveig as a representation of how bad things happen for no reason, to people who don’t deserve it. and how you have to live with the consequences of those bad things, but not become a consequence of them. the struggle to find a new normal when there really isn’t a Normal because she’s constantly being retraumatized and triggered.

the rejection (and struggle to reject) being bitter and living out of spite and the eventual acceptance and understanding you didn’t deserve the things that happened to you. acceptance of live still being wonderful and beautiful and there for you to have and being able to love and live for yourself and seeing the beauty of it despite everything.

amanpal is a metaphor for cptsd if you can’t tell. solveig is a metaphor for breaking the cycle and the constant struggle/pain that comes with it.

[annachum]

Sigyn, Sunna Mundilfaridottir and Solveig of Nidavellir ( top to bottom ) just chatting over a diplomatic afternoon tea be like :

[pensssine]

Fin de journée AVA.

Reu chez Victoria, visite chantier maison simon, et séance photo du projet du canon dor. Rencontre de la photographe solveig, photos, vidéos et stories pour insta de ma part. Bref une journée chargée , mal de tête de fin, comme d’hab.

On discute 5 min dans sa voiture avant que je me casse, sujet Vincent , chat gpt, etc

Pourquoi je me sens souvent mal en sortant d’un rdv avec Victoria ?

Une fois rentré chez moi, je lui envoie des photos d’inspiration pour notre shooting photo à trois de la semaine prochaine, et un message, disant que j’ai commencé à réfléchir au fait de travailler avec son père à trois, et de se faire un resto pour en discuter. Je lui confie que moi je serai comme une roue de secours, car les vrais projets seraient entre leurs mains à eux deux, et moi je viendrai en support avec les 3D et les déclarations administratives, mais on sait toutes les deux, que quand on travaillait ensemble, reprendre le dossier de l’une ou de l’autre pour en faire des 3D ou des dossiers administratifs était très compliqué, le temps de se mettre dans le projet et de l’expliquer à l’autre etc. c’était plus une perte de temps qu’autre chose. et elle me répond : la balle est dans ton camp, il te faut une décennale si tu veux prendre des projets.

Donc encore une fois elle me rembarre et me rabaisse, c’est complètement con d’avoir trois décennales différentes à 3500 € l’année, alors qu’on travaille tous ensemble et qu’on pourra pas dans tous les cas facturer à trois aux clients . Bref ça me saoule. Et si chloe est dans la boucle pour le phoning, bah elle va rapporter des projets, rien que pour eux donc c’est nul, moi j’aurai rien là-dessus.

Donc en vrai j’ai même pas envie de faire ce rendez-vous à trois avec son père, ah et puis notifier dans sa description sur le site Internet, qu’elle est en train de faire, en disant que ça fait 10 ans, qu’elle dessine des pharmacies que toute petite, elle en dessinait déjà qu’elle travaille avec son père depuis etc. etc. bref, elle commence à imiter son père dans tout AVA , et c’est un peu chiant,  au fait, il me doit toujours un ordinateur cet enfoiré.

Là il veut qu’on refasse des photos des salles de bain des hochedez et cuisine, et qu’on aille shooter la pharmacie du lac ( que j’ai faite avec Vincent) mais elle a pas intérêt à me demander de couper le devis en deux. Déjà que je paye la première partie pour refaire les photos de chez l’opticien chez ses parents et chez elle.

J’ai bien l’intention de prendre ses photos comme réalisation pour moi plus tard, si jamais ça s’arrête c’est qu’on aura une photo de groupe et ça au moins ça me servira. Mais bon 340 € pour retoucher des photos pour le site qu’on a en commun mais qui sont pas des réalisations de ma gueule

Je sais pas trop quoi en penser, je vais quand même investir, mais ça me gave, je trouve ça fou qui avait proposé de diviser le devis par deux, et en même temps c’est pour le site qu’on fait nous deux, et pour lequel elle a pris une formation avec son CPF exprès.

D’ailleurs moi aussi j’ai utilisé mon CPF pour faire des formations avec elle, qui finalement était pas ultra utile, je trouve.

J’arrive pas à voir mon avenir professionnel, je sais pas dans quel but, ce soir, j’ai même re regarder les offres d’emploi, et je m’arrête sur des annonces du genre des dessinatrices, préparatrice de commande, restauration, fast-food, vraiment des trucs qui me sortent de ce schéma.

Je me suis même fait la réflexion, pourquoi m’avoir envoyé dans une branche aussi prospectrice, alors qu’on sait très bien que c’est absolument pas mon domaine. Est-ce que je suis fait pour être salariée ? Ou bien patronne comme actuellement, mais j’arrive pas à avoir des clients, en même temps, je cherche pas plus que ça non plus faut bien se l’avouer.

Voilà

On verra ce que l’avenir nous réserve

11/02/25 19:10

[matthias-meijer]

@rebelwithacausesolveig​

His head was reeling. Matthias was trying to understand everything Kat had just told him but the very idea of a child he had fathered running around without his knowledge was too much. As he left the tea room and his sister behind the Dutch prince made his way through the castle hastily, nearly barreling over one poor maid who was tidying up. No, the mad didn’t even apologize and the maid’s huff of disapproval barely registered as he continued towards Solveig’s door.

His hand slammed down on the wood, desperate knocks following while he called out. “Sol! Solveig I don’t care what the hell you’re doing, I need you to open the door.” Matthias was aware that his voice was carrying through the hall and others would probably be alerted to his frantic pleas but this was too important. His image could wait. Damage control could be done later but right now he just needed his best friend to open the door. 

And when she finally did everything he wanted to say flew from his mind and the only words he could think of spilled from his lips. “Tell me it’s a joke.” He knew it wasn’t. Kat had made that very clear before he’d run off, but he really wanted her to say that it was. Because if Matthias had fathered a child with her and Solveig had kept it from him all this time, if it wasn’t a cruel prank they were playing on him, he’d never be able to trust this woman again. And she was one of the people he’d thought he’d always be able to rely on. Not to mention the fact that he had a child. That one...that one was the hardest thing to believe. “Tell me she was just angry and using some wild story to get back at me.”

[giodmarco]

@rebelwithacausesolveig​:

Solveig’d spent the last couple of days in her room utterly alone with the exception of a run in with Klaus. She’d found being drunk and having no cares suited her well in the depressed state she’d been in since fighting with Matthias. Something in the back of her mind had reminded her though, if she kept hiding, people would start talking. It was bad enough the prince was being seen without his normal guard, she didn’t need rumors about her circulating on top of everything. Of course, after reading the card she’d been given several times, she was ready to call off her attempts at going out. What a cruel joke it was that her only connection would be with Katrien. 

Dressed to the nines as though nothing had happened though, she walked into the dining room. Matthias was the first person she’d spotted, a trait developed from years of having to pick him out in a crowd, and suddenly her chest was heavy and her eyes stung. Grabbing a glass of champagne quickly she made her way out to the adjoined back patio. Muttering a number of expletives as she stepped outside, she took notice of the person already there for the first time. “Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat softly and standing up a little straighter. “I thought I was alone.” 

His mind had been racing all night despite him trying to concentrate on the game that was currently going on in the Emerald dining room. HIs character was fun, that was for sure, and he was enjoying torturing Ausra a little too much but there was always something else running on a constant loop as a background to his his thoughts. The night before, for some reason, seemed to have dug itself into the trenches of his brain and it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

So, in an attempt to clear up said thoughts, he’d been out on the balcony with a glass of scotch in hand when Solveig had stepped out as well. And it seemed something was bothering her as well. But with her muttering and the general vibe she had going on at the moment cleared whatever was in his head almost immediately. “You okay?” He hadn’t even greeted her before he stood up from leaning against the railing and walked closer to her. Gio liked to think it wasn’t a common practice of his to ask about whatever personal things were going on with someone and yet it seemed to be happening a lot more around this castle. He’d been here in close proximity to these people for way too long and that was starting to become very clear. “I wouldn’t want to be the person who pissed you off. Who are you going after with a sword in the morning?”

[alexicervantes]

Something I like about you? I cannot say I know you well, but if I am remembering the masquerade correctly, you get flustered quite easily. I find it endearing, it has been a long time since I made a man blush.

“I am not flustered easily...I was caught off guard that night. And it had been a long time since anyone had been flirting with me. I do not know why I am explaining myself to you.”

[snowbatsims]

VAMPIRE INTERMISSION #3, bonus

Obviously, Andreas did not listen.

ANDREAS: Hey.... I would like to become a vampire. ???: (who's this old trespassing dude) ???: (i dunno) VLAD: Who art thou? ANDREAS: Someone who would like to stay alive. forever. VLAD: Is it immortality that you seek? VLAD: I do not know thee. The gift of the vampyre is a privilege very few mortals receive. Thou shalt not have it. VLAD: Mortal fool....

VLAD: Though I would never say nay to free blood...

------

LATER...

ANDREAS: Where am i....? ANDREAS: My head hurts.

???: You're in the dungeon, silly! ANDREAS: Dungeon??? He has a dungeon? ???: Well duh, every self respecting vampire lord has a dungeon. ???: And I believe Father liked your blood so much, he has promoted you to bloodbag! You're welcome! ANDREAS: Bloodbag??

???: And I will be your jailer - hello! you can call me Sunny! ANDREAS: Sunny, huh... ironic name. SUNNY: Yeah, I don't think I have ever actually seen the sun myself, and Father would like to keep it that way. He likes his ironic names though. ANDREAS: What, were you born a vampire? SUNNY: Of course! Born and raised in this very castle here! ANDREAS: Fascinating... SUNNY: Mind if I come in? :D

ANDREAS: Whoa, did you just turn into a bat? SUNNY: Yeah, I dunno how to do Father's mist-shifting yet. Hi!!!

ANDREAS: Wait, how young are you?? SUNNY: Oh, just about... sixty, maybe. Still a child, really. ANDREAS: ???? SUNNY: We're immortal, idiot. ANDREAS: Could you turn me too?? SUNNY: Nah, I just told you - you're our bloodbag. ANDREAS: :( SUNNY: Well hey, you can look at it this way: at least you're not alone!

SUNNY: We have also provided you guys with beds, toilets and small fridges so you don't starve. ANDREAS: You know, yeah, I could use a nap... SUNNY: Alright, cool! Smell ya later!

[oshcwdaluna]

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑

pra dar uma renovadinha nas inters do evento de halloween , basta responder esse call com um ( emoji ou musica ou local do evento da sua escolha ) e :

🌙 para um starter com a luna ( 0 / 3 )

🔥 para um starter com a solveig ( 0 / 3 )

🕶 para um starter com o lucky ( 0 / 3 )

𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : responda com 🗣 para me invocar no seu chat e plotarmos !! ✨️

[daddy-ul]

Tag 9 ppl that you want to know better!

ehya, wyn @wynwynfrau!! Late but grateful for the tag, that's my name.

Favorite Color : burgundry, but honestly every shade of red

Currently Reading : I just finished reading this cool french graphic novel abt this woman that kept getting back in prison; it was abt her life in prison, how female prisons work in france, reflexions on the conditions of the prisoners... and it's a true story. Here is the link to the og french edition, meanwhile this is the italian edition that I read, Bless my fave local library that put it on my radar.

Last Song : Hello by Martin Solveig & Dragonette --bc it was at the end of an episode of Ted Lasso, that I just watched. This pop song is so damn famous (even tho i didnt even know the title) that even I heard it before.

Last Movie : *crickets* I swear that I have no recollection. Uhhhh does it count if I didnt actually watched the film but I watched a minute by minute parody review of said movie? well, in that case I'll have to say F*ntastic Be*sts 2. (I am not a Hully Putter fan, bc i've never read it, but I love that youtube channel that makes reviews bc it's absolutely hilarious, so... i gave it a try and i laughed a lot. .... okay, fuck, I'll admit that i was insomniac that night hdjkfhkjfs but it was fun!)

Last Series : Ted Lasso, I just watched the 2x09 15 mins ago.

Currently Craving : I DONT WANT TO BE THAT PIECE OF SHIT ALFIE AT THE END OF HIS SELF TITLED MOVIE, LOOKING RIGHT INTO THE CAMERA AND SAYING 'but I dont have the peace of mind'.

That's what I want. Peace of mind.

(if not that... please some balance? in my head possibly?)

Tea of Coffee : fuck both, let's have some diluted pear juice. bc that's what basically brings me back to life in the morning. 1l of pear juice in one go and then I'm alive again.

Currently Working On : uhhhh I should be working on Plautus, but I am lazily writing this dialogue between Jason and Lars, the night before the opening of Jase's art show? the one that Lars attended? yeah, it's basically them, 40yo ish, chatting idly in the dark till it comes to that part of the night in which... if you've known someone for long, you start to talk Past.

What can I say? They were actually friends then and I love making friends talk the night away.

tagging: uhhhh, i think most of you already did it buttt i really want to know better these duders @newsted, @mewstashio, @cxrgans, @doomcalls, @62kh, @larsmybeloved, @larsaholic, @the-mighty-het-speaks, @sdavaysya and-- well, if you are my mutual and you didnt do this... yep, you are tagged. I love listening to you all!!

[solrites]

@vitalphenomena, spirit said: i'm not ready to fight yet.

"y-y-you think i'm gonna hit you again, or something?" the tone of her voice indicates that really - the only reason solveig isn't is because, well. spirit has been boxed up and put into the waste of time category in her head. it's hard, historically, to change a battey's mind when someone is deemed a waste of time, a mistake, a nuisance.

just ask her brother. right, spirit? "can you just honestly FUCK OFF. what? what would yo-you like to do instead. i'm engaged. there's that. i got an A on my first exam. i - i literally don't know what else you expect when you keep coming - coming around and fucking with me. a nice civil chat? there. done. leave."

[superprincesspea]

Chapter 11: Traitor

Masterlist

It rained for almost a week and Rollo didn’t return home.

Edithe was too proud to ask Haedde where he was and should have rejoiced at being without his heathen company, but the old woman bored her. Praying, sewing and sitting bored her. It always had.

She missed her family and home more than ever but even there, she’d been unhappy. Quiet reflection and tedious activity never suited her. Being the daughter of a Saxon Lord never suited her. Rebellion had burrowed under her skin for as long as she could remember and over time she’d learnt to quell it rather than banish it entirely.

The last words she’d spoken to her family had been in anger. She’d envied her brother. Envied his freedom most of all. She was going to be sent away to marry a boy prince, while her brother would remain and one day become Lord of all she held dear. It wasn’t fair but nothing was ever fair for a woman, Haedde was right about that.

Today the sun shone brightly amidst fluffy white clouds and she perched at the window, watching the world go by, her foot tapping rhythmically on the floor.

“Why are you so restless, child?” Haedde asked for what must have been the tenth time that morning.

“I wish to go outside. It isn’t even raining today. Can’t you ask the guard again, Haedde?”

“Each day it is the same answer from them, child. Have patience. I’m sure Rollo will be home soon enough.”

She sighed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. With each passing day she longed more and more for the easy meander up the meadow. To feel the long grass tickling her legs and to fill her lungs with sea air as it swept across the fjord and onto the hillside.

“Why don’t I tell you the words for the days of the week?” Haedde said.

Edithe slumped even further into misery, “who cares about the days of the week when every day is the same?”

Haedde replied but Edithe didn’t hear it. Instead, her eyes searched a group of warriors who were walking from the docks, talking, laughing, returning home.  And in the middle of them all, there he was.

Rollo .

“I told you he would return soon and already you are happy,” Haedde cooed, watching over her shoulder to see what had caught her attention.

Edithe bit back the smile which had fallen carelessly onto her face. Thanking God it was only the old woman who had seen the proof of it. “I am happy to leave this prison, nothing more.”

By the time he entered the house, she’d taken a seat by the fire, pretending to sew.

He sat away from her, unloading the sack he carried and chatting to Haedde while she fussed over him.

“You look well, Lord. You have been busy?”

“Yes, it has been a long week and I have missed your cooking old woman,” he smiled, flattering her.

Edithe was trying her best to ignore him but she couldn’t help herself, nor could she help the sting of disappointment in his disregard for her. She was supposed to be his bride yet he had no interest in talking, or even looking at her.

“Will you not greet me, heathen?” she said, wishing she held more patience.

“Hello, Edithe,” he replied, meeting her stare briefly before resuming his conversation with Haedde.

Edithe jabbed the stupid sewing needle into the dress she was embroidering and caught her finger in the process. It bled out but she suffered in silence, quietly seething and certainly more wounded by his ignorance than she should have been.

“No doubt you have had a long journey, Lord. But will you be taking Lady Edithe out for the afternoon? She has been so fretful in your absence.”

“Has she?” Rollo asked, looking pointedly in Edithe’s direction.

Edithe was grateful Haedde thought of asking Rollo to take her outside, but the manner of her phrasing left much to be desired. She hadn’t been fretful because he was gone she’d been bored because she was trapped.

She ignored the way he looked at her, giving her attention to the sewing once more.

“She is young, it is not good for her to be cooped up all day with an old woman. Take her, have fun together, hm?”

Rollo humoured Haedde but his tone had an edge when he asked, “but does Lady Edithe wish me to take her?”

“I think-” Haedde began.

“I wasn’t asking you, old woman.”

Edithe straightened her spine, chin up, “you promised to train me, did you not?”

He scoffed, “I’m a heathen and a barbarian as you always point out. Why should I keep my promises to you, Christian ?”

Edithe held her temper tightly in her chest. She would rather die than beg him.

“I think she does not understand you-” Haedde lied to Rollo in Norse before speaking to Edithe in Saxon, “-you want to go with him, why be so stubborn, child?”

“I think she understands perfectly,” Rollo decided, watching her carefully.

Edithe tightened her jaw, her whole body rigid with frustration. “Do as you please, heathen . I have not asked you for anything and I never will!”

“Then these will go to waste,” he said, tossing a burlap sack at her feet.

She wanted to ignore it but the curiosity was far too tempting. She picked it up, opening the ties to find a tunic and trousers like the ones Solveig wore. But more excitingly, there was a black leather tabard, delicately stitched and soft to the touch.

“I do not want them,” she lied, still clutching them in her hands.

Rollo sighed, “wear them, don’t wear them. It makes no difference to me.”

“Then why bring them for me?”

He sighed again, “to make you happy, Edithe. Though I can see it is impossible to do so.”

He was wrong, the clothes did make her happy but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She could hardly even admit it to herself.

They stared at each other in silence, both of them unwilling to yield.

“I will leave you to your sewing then,” he decided, grabbing a piece of bread from the plate Haedde prepared for him. “Do not wait up for me.”

He walked to the door and she couldn’t remain seated or impassive a moment longer,  not when freedom was tantalisingly close. “Wait,” she called.

He turned, giving her the opportunity to speak.

“I…” she’d asked him to take her before, why was it so difficult now? “I do wish you to take me.”

She thought he might mock her and then refuse but he didn’t. He smiled, his eyes crinkling warmly, “then change quickly, woman.”

She smiled too and in hindsight, perhaps she could have been less enthusiastic, but some emotions were impossible to hide.

Pulling on the new clothes, she liked the way they made her feel. In trousers, she would be able to kick, run and tumble as freely as any man and, in Kattegat, nobody would judge her for it.

Yet, in her mind’s eye, she could see the scorn on her mothers face. If she was here now, she would hate it and think her unladylike, unchristian even.  Edithe banished the thought. She would pray on it later but for now, she would enjoy the newfound freedom a pair of trousers seemed to promise.

When she emerged from the bedchamber, Rollo’s gaze caressed her body, admiring her shape without restraint. Stupidly, she hadn’t even considered how the trousers would hug her figure.

Her cheeks heated, after a week she’d forgotten what it felt like when he gave her all his attention.

“Enough,” she said and his hungry gaze flicked to meet hers.

“Now you really do look like a warrior of Odin,” he praised and she ignored him, moving across the room to collect her wooden sword.

Rollo move closer to her and, when she turned, she had to take a step back to avoid crashing into him.

“For you, Valkyrie,” he said, uncurling his hand to reveal a black leather belt clutched within it.

Another gift, another thing to pray on later. She reached for it but he moved it away.

“Allow me,” he insisted, his hands deliberate as they carefully began to fasten the belt around her waist.

All the time her heart thudded. Every brush of his fingers rippling a flurry of tingles to her core. She held her breath, trying desperately to ignore the scent of his skin, the scent of his very presence, as it enveloped her.

Sea, soap and leather. She hadn’t realised how familiar the smell had become until this moment, and now she was trying not to drown in it. Trying so hard she was lightheaded and unsteady on her feet.

“For your sword,” he said, smiling as he eased the weapon from her hand and slipped it into her new belt.

He turned towards the door and she exhaled, wondering why his touch had seemed to brand her skin. Even now she could feel the heat of it.

Luckily Rollo didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He stepped outside and waited for her to follow with hardly a second glance.

After a week trapped indoors, the meadow was even better than Edithe remembered and she took the time to ramble through the long grass. After so much rain the air was fresh and wildflowers bloomed all around. She picked a buttercup and twirled it in her fingers, admiring the way the light dance on its waxy petals.

Rollo was watching her and she was very aware of him, very aware of herself. She didn’t want him to know that she found beauty in this place or, that if he was a Saxon man, then she could have found pleasure in his company.

She was a traitor for even having such a thought steal into her subconscious. But it was becoming impossible to deny. Despite her hatred for Rollo, his smile fell warmly onto his face and she had missed it. She had missed their lessons. He was a patient teacher. More patient than the nuns had ever been, infinitely more patient than her father.

It seemed so strange to her that a heathen Viking could have such a capacity for gentleness. In many ways, Rollo was much more agreeable to Edithe than the boy prince she was supposed to wed. But underneath Rollo’s pleasing exterior he was a pagan and a murderer.

She let the buttercup fall to the grass, her face hardening to him as she recalled the moment he’d killed her brother. When she thought about that, Rollo became the most hateful thing she’d ever seen. But if only he could be unpleasant to gaze upon too. It would make everything far easier and she would feel far less shallow in her sinful thinking.

“Perhaps we could walk a while?” she asked, feeling suddenly unprepared to be in such close proximity to him.

“Anything you want, we will do. As always, Lady Edithe,” he chuckled.

Was he mocking her? Calling her spoilt? How could she ever think anything good of him? “We don’t always do everything I want,” she snapped.

“Do we not?”

“I did not want to be brought here. To be locked in your house, day after day. Even Haedde gets to leave whenever she pleases while I have to sit and wait for you . You disappeared for a week and left me to rot.”

“So you noticed I was gone?” his smile wasn’t mocking her, it was warm and handsome and she hated it all the more.

“I noticed your man stopping me from leaving.”

“He’s not there to stop you from leaving. He’s there to stop anyone from getting in.”

Edithe laughed, now it was her turn to mock, “like Ragnar?”

“What of him?” Rollo’s tone was serious now, his face hardening as he moved to tower over her. This was the Viking she expected. Menacing, dangerous, heart-stopping.

“He said he would never touch something which belonged to you.” So perhaps she would relay Ragnar’s message after all.

Rollo relaxed, his eyes softening once more, had they always been as green as they were right now? Surely not.

“Do you belong to me, Valkyrie?” he asked, reaching for her plait and letting it slip slowly through his long fingers

She couldn’t bear to hold his stare a moment longer. Couldn’t bear to be so close to him when he looked at her as he was looking right now. As though there were no Christians or Pagans just Edithe, Rollo and his boyish smile.

“I belong only to God and you should never have taken me.”

She could hear his frustration, feel it even. “So I should have killed you? Left you for the crows? Or for the other men to do with as they pleased?  Do you have any idea how much you would have suffered in the hands of another man?”

“Stop,” she told him, angry because he was right.

“I saved you,” he whispered, his presence encompassing her, “and you have given me nothing, Edithe. Not even a kiss.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry, adrenaline hurrying down her veins but she didn’t run away. His eyes grazed her lips and she knew what he was thinking, knew she should stop this madness.

“ Rollo ,” she said, her word a breathy whisper rather than a command and as soon as it had rolled from her lips, he took her into his arms and leaned in to kiss her.

She pulled back but his hands caught her escape and his lips were soft with tenderness as they pressed to her hers. They warmed her, yet she shivered, goosebumps prickling along her skin.

“Rollo,” she said again and when he kissed her a second time, his open-mouthed urgency startled her. His tongue pushing past her lips, sinking wet and smooth into her mouth. She whimpered, allowing him to consume her and allowing herself to drown in the sea, soap and leather of his scent.

She didn’t know a kiss could be so longlasting and as it deepened, his hands gliding easily over her body, heat pooled unexpectedly between her legs. He was invading her, breaching her walls and somewhere in the back of her mind a voice called for her to fight. But she was weak, melting willingly into his unyielding kiss.

When it was over she trembled, frightened by the deep pull of desire which coursed across her traitorous body.

“How can I ever stop kissing you now?” he asked, smiling, leaning down to kiss her again.

“Stop,” she whispered, pushing her hands against his chest but he was too strong, too entranced.

“Why should we stop?” he breathed in her ear before his lips peppered lazily along her neck, tightening whatever it was which made her body thrum for something more.

“Please Rollo,” she begged, unsure if she was begging him to stop or begging him to continue.

How could she let this heathen touch her in such a way? This was not her, this was madness. Utter madness. She had been too long from home, too long in this pagan land. Her body was for God first and her husband second. Rollo was neither and he never would be.

“Let me go, heathen!” she shrieked, pushing him more forcefully.

He released her, his breathing ragged. There was no more sweetness or gentleness in his features, only lust.

Edithe didn’t wait to see what he might do next. She ran. From Rollo and herself. She didn’t recognise that girl in the meadow. Nor did she recognise the part of her who wondered, what it would feel like, if she didn’t stop him at all.

[bxthharmon]

White Butterflies, pt v || Hvitserk Lothbrok x Reader

Words: 1374

Warnings: Mentions of suicide and death

Summary: Seers have a higher knowledge

 A/N: sorry this took a whileee

i | ii | iii | iv | v

This story doesn’t follow the plot, so you don’t have to know the story to understand it.

The gull soared over the sea, fighting the strong winds, the bird journeying towards the dots on the horizon. The sea, the waves, meters high, the clouds and lightning trying to dishearten the creature, but it fought on. Within minutes, the sails and shields of the longboats were clear, and battered by the storm. The sails were being pulled down to form tents, Hvitserk and his brother visible on the leading boat. Ivar swore, turning to his brother, “Your wife was right.” he roared, his voice contending with the storm, “We’re scattered, and we’ve lost ships.”

Hvitserk, swinging off a rope, leaned out of the boat, staring at the bird. His stare softened, and turned back. “You heard yourself, she had Njord’s favour,” he kept his eyes on the bird, “We will survive this storm, and we will gather our ships again.”

“Brother,” Ubbe came out from the half-formed tent, “I hope you are right. Come on.” he pulled Hvitserk back, and they retreated to the shelter of the tent.”

When your eyes opened, you could feel yourself sick with worry. You’d been sick with worry for days now, and your suspicions had been confirmed. You sat up, looking around your room, and saw that all of the candles in your room had blown out even though the wax wasn't even half melted. Uneasily, you rolled out of bed and dressed, letting Solveig braid your hair, the pair of you chatting idly. You mentioned the candles blowing out and your dream, making worry obvious across her face.

“Solveig,” you frowned, “what’s wrong?”

She looked to the floor, “Have you been to the Seer?” she questioned, and you shook your head. “My Princess, if I was in your position, I’d go to see him, he holds a wisdom beyond us.”

You nodded, and smiled at her, “Go with me?”

“Of course, as your thrall.” She confirmed.

“No, as my friend.” you assured her, “Now, we shall go after we eat, yes?”

*

The hut thinly walled, decorated with ornaments and symbols strung up, and candles arranged in the corners and sides of the room. The Seer himself sat before you, skin marred over his eyes and lips black, looking unnatural and unsettling. “I have waited for your visit for months now, Y/N Lothbrok, Christian turned to Heathen.” He had greeted you, and you had frowned, but no said anything.

“You want to ask me about your husband.” The Seer stated, and you agreed.

“Will he come back unharmed?” You asked.

“His fate lies here, and any harm to become him will be in an emotional mutiny. He would survive being dropped from the skies, but only suffer in his soul, not his body.” the Seer riddled, and you nodded. 

“Will I give him children?”

“Twice,” he sighed, “They will form a legacy in your name, and in the name of justice.”

You nodded again.

“Your mind…” he rasped, “Is plagued with questions.”

“How are my brothers?” you asked, thinking of Theo.

“Two prosper, but will fall for their fury, one dies slowly, unrealised for now, by no one’s hand but his Christian God’s.”

“He is ill?” you frowned, “Which brother, tell me which of my brothers is dying?”

“You ask too many questions.” the Seer croaked, “You thirst for knowledge the Gods wish to hide… it is futile, the Gods’ will is iron.

You felt angry, you knew he knew, and what if it was Theo? Arthur or Geoffrey, you could live with. But Theo? A tear slipped down your cheek. “Is it Theo?” you asked, your voice wavering.

The Seer looked at you, or turned its head to you, seeing without eyes, “Your instinct is strong, and trustworthy. Do not doubt it, do not doubt yourself, and do not doubt another.”

He presented his hand to you, and you glanced at Solveig, who nodded at you, miming licking her hand. You took the Seer’s hand and licked it, as she had directed you, before standing and walking out of the hut.

“Solveig.” you turned to her as she followed you out. “Can I trust you?” she nodded. “I know servants talk. But please, don’t repeat what you heard there to anyone. No servants, no visitors, and especially not the Ragnarssons upon their return. Okay?”

“Of course,” she nodded. You held your head up high, looking over her shoulder.

“If you do, I’ll know. And I would hate the consequences.” you sighed, looking back to her. “I am not betraying your King, but I don’t want things to escalate.”

She nodded, and you smiled, the pair of you heading back to the town.

*

The sun hung low in the sky, streaks of scarlet and peach painting the sky, the last lights beaming through the gaps in the trees. The yew tree stood tall over you, as you prayed. You asked for Njord to carry your husband’s longboats to your country safely, and for the raids to go well. You prayed that they would spare your younger brother, and you prayed that the fate the seer bestowed on him was not painful. 

You wondered if this fate was an illness, or self-inflicted. There was a woman at your old court, who had gone crazy, preaching that God had spoken to her in the night about her descent to Hell, and two days later had been found hanging from a rope in the stables. You’d been friends with the stable boy who found her, and he had insisted on telling you the gruesome details of her corpse. You were ten at the time and to this day didn’t know which details you believed.  And there was a boy, a young boy, only twelve or so, who had died of internal injuries after falling from his horse. Arthur had taken great delight in telling you about how he had died in great agony, screaming and crying as his insides had ripped and his body began to falter and die. It was one of the hunting trip, when you were seventeen and your mother had finally stopped you from going. 

Dinner was solemn, everyone had been dressed in black, with you and Mother wearing veils as well. The Lord’s son, who had fallen, was buried, and his family would be leaving to travel back to their own lands the following morning. You watched as people told Arthur how sorry they were after having to witness such a thing, and you saw how he played up to it, always such a good actor. He was the only one there, and he was angry at the Lord for trying to gain more lands off of Father. He was horrible, but he was always acting for the family, wanting more power, more money, more fame. Father supported it, knowing Arthur would be the driver when Geoffrey became king, so incidents like this would happen, and everyone would pretend they didn’t know it was him. You stood with Theo as your mother made a speech about the boy’s memory, and Arthur stood by her, pretending to be upset. As the court clapped, Theo nudged you, pointing at Arthur. He smirked at the pair of you, and you felt sick. “Oh, Theo,” you sighed, “Why are we cursed with him for a brother?”

He’d laughed, “Oh Y/N,” He’d sighed, mocking you, “We just all missed out on father’s talent for always wanting more power.” 

“I’m not sure I’d call it missing out.” You murmured, as you looped your arm in his, “Now we need to escape Mother, she’s determinedly walking towards us and I don’t want another lecture, I’ve already had two today.”

You thought of how you and Theo had spent the evening evading your parents and getting drunk. You missed him, and how it felt to have a brother who truly cared. You knew the Ragnarssons cared for you, but you wouldn’t let yourself be drunk like that in front of any of them, and you doubted any of them, other than Hvitserk, would be willing to look after you when you were drunk or would gossip with you about whatever drama was going on in the court. You sighed, and prayed once more, this time, for a real family.

tags: @soleil-dor​ @siliethkaijuy​

[matthias-meijer]

@rebelwithacausesolveig

Matthias was a ball of emotions as he made his way to Solveig’s room, little gift bag in hand and memories of their last encounter flooding his mind. He should have had another guard deliver it to her, should have asked anyone else really, but for some reason he’d decided to brave it in hopes that the blonde was escorting Kat or even another royal somewhere. The prince made sure the note he’d written to Sol was visible with her name written in his unmistakable print before he placed the bag in front of her door and for a moment, he’d thought he’d made it out scott free. Until he turned and took in the sight of the very person he didn’t want to see.

Anger flared almost immediately. He couldn’t stop the slight roll of his eyes as he looked away from his former guard, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Of course you would come to your room right when I was dropping this off.” Because that was his luck. As of late it just seemed like the world was against him no matter what he did. Jaw clenched, he gestured towards the gift, figuring he might as well explain while he was here despite the note he’d left. “You said she was turning fourteen in December. It’s for her. You don’t have to tell her who it’s from I just wanted to get her something.”

[tesruinedmylife]

Tell me abt your favorite oc and give some pictures (if you have them) so I can draw them!!

awww sasha ur the sweetest thank you <3

its hard to choose my fave but imma talk a bit abt my vestige because i am OBSESSED with her lately

her name is solveig the storm-brought, and she was raised in a nord village on solstheim after she was found as a child with no memory at the seashore

she was always very curious and hungry for knowledge, reading every book she could find and chatting with anyone who visited their village. she also studied magic, and had a knack for all things summoning and daedric. eventually, she realised she must leave her home in order to learn more, and that’s what she did. She would probably live a quiet life as a scholar in the mages guild, if it wasn’t for all the crazy adventures she got into

an interesting thing about her is that she isn’t quite who she thinks she is - in fact, she is hermaeus mora’s demiprince who got sent down to nirn without any knowledge about her true form as a sort of punishment for standing up to her father. if someone wants to know her sphere were tides of fate: she helped herma mora out in reading from them, which is an ability she kept to an extent in her human form, but for the longest time was not able to fully use it

also she’s a big lesbian and romances naryu

[dat-paw]

The Victor’s Laurels

[In which a drop-off occurs...]

It's early evening by the time the party arrive at the Prima Vista, with scarcely any time spent in Kugane at all. Suraja Solveig has been talking Lif Silverlode's ear off about how pretty Kugane is since they arrived, having never seen anything like it. Lif Silverlode happily listens to Suraja Solveig's wonder and passes along as much information as she could about the city's history and culture, most of which was learned from books. Kiri Kha hangs by Lif and Suraja, listening to them chat and throwing in a few things she's learned specifically from living nearby. Suraja Solveig: And now this place! A theater ship?! Sure I'm an entertainer an' all, but nothin' like this...

Suraja Solveig can only wonder what it was like to be part of a traveling theater. Ivan Amov is mostly fiddling with equipment he brought with him. One of the thespians of the Majestic, who seems particularly chatty with Priscilla, starts gossiping to the group at large about Malla Velius. Malla Velius departed /in the middle of costume week/ and hasn't been seen or heard from since. Worse still, their new tailor has been horrible at their job, but that's not important: most everyone has recognized in hindsight that Malla had some connections with the Dalmascan Resistance during her time aboard the Prima Vista, and several factions at that. A couple of those people have even tried to contact the ship since her departure, all of them calling in great need. More than anything else, though, there's a sense of worry for Malla among the crew - the sense that despite all that transpired with the stones, despite the highly inopportune timing of her departure, the Majestic greatly miss her, and hope to have her back. A'zaela Linh smiles gently at Alaq'it Moks. Alaq'it Moks slinks in closer by Priscilla Scaevola to listen to the intel. Jude Paw blabbers to anyone who would listen about the intricacies of blitzball. Nivelth Ajuyn forgot her hat, and she's angry about it. Priscilla Scaevola would be glad to chat up and flirt with the thespian to get as much information as possible. Alaq'it Moks wrinkles her nose at hearing about Malla's involvement with the costumes. Orella Steelhand: Can't say I'm filled with confidence... Ingvald Bloodhound manages to extricate himself from conversations with the dancers, and goes over to find Orella Steelhand, knowing this will be the last time they're together in person for a few weeks. Priscilla Scaevola would retell the information she found to anyone who inquired. Priscilla Scaevola: I worry that if the resistance is trying to communicate with her means she might not be with them? Ingvald Bloodhound considers, and nods. Priscilla Scaevola: Oh I almost forgot! Priscilla Scaevola hands over a few communication jammers for anyone she thinks could operate one. Priscilla Scaevola: This should help with people trying to listen in. Rosenheim asked for them. Orella Steelhand: Good thinking.

Jude Paw sidles up to Jenesis Labariel and whispers under his breath. Jude Paw: Is it me, or does it seem like we only ever meet when we're heading off into another fight? Jenesis Labariel smiles lightly, barely visible beneath the helm's visor, but he would hear it in her voice. Jenesis Labariel: An astute observation, my friend - one that, I fear, has been far too accurate of late. Lif Silverlode graciously takes one of the jammers, looks over it with a surprisingly familiar, appraising eye, and slips it into her pocket. Nivelth Ajuyn gives Pris a quick nod of thanks, tucking her own into one of her pockets. Nivelth Ajuyn: Thanks, Priscilla. Jude Paw eyes the jammers warily. No mind for technology, this boy. He takes one, assuming that maybe Jen or A'z would know how to operate it. Jenesis Labariel holds her hand out toward Jude, open palmed. Jenesis Labariel: Here, I can take care of that, she assures him, noting his expression. Jude Paw: Oh thank Rhalgr. I'm hopeless with these things... A'zaela Linh spends most of her time going over maps and making sure she has enough parchment for more. Her old maps of Rabanastre are there, but she isn't sure she trusts their accuracy. There's no way to get into Bozjan territory directly, the shuttle pilot explains: the area is either dotted with imperial castra or forests too dense to navigate from above. But there's a spot along the coast that appears relatively sparse... Orella Steelhand: Time to go make nice, I guess. Orella Steelhand shrugs. Suraja Solveig: Hope y'don't mind me stickin' with you, Lif. Don't wanna be a burden. Orella Steelhand reaches for Ingvald as the shuttle comes to a halt; before he can extricate his hand from hers and slip away, she pulls his head down to hers, pressing their foreheads together. In plain view of all. And she murmurs in Ala Mhigan. Orella Steelhand: Be /safe/. Orella Steelhand kisses him, before letting him go and striding off to leave. Kiri Kha paces a lot. She has not been in airships often and is not super comfortable so high in the air. Her feet on something solid or not. Nivelth Ajuyn looks over at Orella Steelhand. Nivelth Ajuyn: You're with me, right? Or at least, Hel said so. Orella Steelhand glances over Nivelth Ajuyn and nods. Orella Steelhand: You must be her sister. Lif Silverlode offers Kiri Kha a reassuring smile and tries to make small talk with her in an attempt to distract her. Kiri Kha smiles and engages in the small talk as much as she may. Happy for the distraction. As the shuttle touches down upon a sandy tropical beach, half the Riskbreakers aboard depart quickly and quietly; within mere moments, the shuttle departs for its next destination. Using the map which Priscilla sketched, the Riskbreakers make their way into the desert under the cover of night, avoiding all imperial outposts in the region. Suraja Solveig steadies herself as the airship takes off again. Kiri Kha tenses up a bit again as the airship takes back off. She takes a deep breath to calm herself before laughing at herself. Kiri Kha: I'll charge into a fight no problem, but airships fuckin get me everytime. Ingvald Bloodhound nods in understanding. Jude Paw: I don't like airships, either… Unnatural, to be this high off the ground. Jude Paw: Uh... No offense to our resident dragoon. Jude Paw gives a quick glance at Jenesis. A'zaela Linh also quirks a brow. Jenesis Labariel grins. Jenesis Labariel: None taken. Airships are almost like… a second home. How else do you think we learn to handle the strain? Suraja Solveig: Never been on one m'self so this is a new experience... Fortunately, the airship soon lands, leaving the remaining Riskbreakers to depart into the desert. A pilot from the Prima Vista takes back over and pilots the shuttle back to Kugane, leaving the Riskbreakers alone in the sands. Priscilla Scaevola waves and gives a kiss goodbye as the ship leaves them.

[ars-historia-est]

• Requiem🌻• Earl Grey

Hello and thanks for asking!

• Requiem: Do you like classical music? If so, who is your favourite composer or what is your favourite composition?

Yes, I love classical music! I’d say my favourite composers are Bach, Beethoven and Verdi, because I adore absolutely anything by them. 

My favourite individual pieces however would be New World Symphony / Symphony No. 9, especially the 4th Movement by Antonin Dvorak, Hungarian Dance No. 5 by Johannes Brahms, The Rite of Spring by Igor Stravisky, Hungarian Rhapsody by Franz Liszt and Solveig’s Theme by Edvard Grieg.

• Earl Grey: Do you prefer tea or coffee? Which kind? 

Coffee, hands down! I’m practically an addict. I like most kinds, but a nice filtered or pressed brew (we call it French or filtered coffee here) is perfect for long reading and studying sessions. When out, a strong aromatic cappuccino, perfect for accompanying a book or a friendly chat.

Thanks again!